


Blisters

by FoxLight



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, Minor Violence, Monster of the Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxLight/pseuds/FoxLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen is on the hunt to save an obscure, water-dwelling abnormal from poaching. On the way, she encounters trouble from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chilling Voices

Shaking hands rose with weakening force to clutch at the sides of his face; his darkened gaze turned briefly to regard her before resuming its fascination with the scene below.

“Look at me,” she wheezed, her frozen fingers clawing at his skin. She squirmed painfully beneath the weight of his grasp, crying out as a bloodied hand pushed the slippery shard further into her lower abdomen.

He moaned within her suffering, swallowing thickly as a pang of ecstasy overcame him.

Numbness and fatigue threatened to overwhelm her, but she flared her eyes against it. “Look at me,” she repeated. A gasp found her as she summoned the strength to push his face back toward hers. Piercing, arctic eyes blazed into her own, wild and chaotic, flaring with purified rage.

“This is  **not** you,” her voice wavered and faltered, hitching again as a shock of pain sliced through her body.

Pale eyes flickered and softened like a shivering flame, and she found a sliver of hope within the looming madness.

Silence filled the dampening air and she blinked as the haze around her vision grew thicker. “You have to take me home” she whispered through fluttering eyes, slipping past the realm of conscious light.

She mouthed his name, bereft of sound as she lost the ability to used her throat. Then, her closed her eyes in solemn surrender as she faded into blankness, deaf to the hollow cries of anguish that flooded her aggressor.

++++

_4 hours earlier..._

Helen Magnus was not crying.

That was what she told herself as she deftly shifted the helicopter controls in preparation for a smooth landing. It was another routine investigation; shady pictures and errant rumors had led her to a region in the southeastern portion of the United States where a network of cave-fed springs littered in the panhandle of Florida. The spring-lands themselves were remarkable, abundant with moss laden oak, palm, and cypress trees and flourishing with life. Peppered along the miles of murky green swamps and wetlands, where the dusky water would break into cold, clean, crystal clear pools--strange and ethereal in their bright blue glow--were underwater caves. Rare and pristine amid the dense, scrubby landscape, each one was itching to be explored.

Despite her admiration and subsequent temptation for the area, Helen’s interest lay nestled within stories of a great beast that was reportedly spotted lurking within the caves. Details about its location and appearance were sketchy; local rumors held that it was reptilian in appearance, possessed the body of a snake, and had large, elongated fangs that released a paralytic venom. Further reports mentioned teeth and gills, others the presence of arms and legs, and others more debunked the myth entirely, stating that the creature was simply an over-sized manatee that possessed genetic deformities. Manatees did, of course, populate the area during the winter--the cool yet consistent water temperatures of the springs were vastly preferable to the freezing waters elsewhere--but Helen suspected, as with most reports involving the sighting of abnormals, that the theory of the “deformed manatee” was simply a cover-up to placate local residents, a logical explanation to offer an illogical world.

Comically called “Hugo” or “Huge-o” due to reports of its large size, the creature was in danger of being poached and killed by abnormal hunters and locals alike. A fine prize for any skilled hunter, Hugo was now the primary focus of Helen’s attentions--or at least he would have been, if she had not been so distracted by the previous week’s events.

She stifled her breath against the soft jolt from the landing skids as they touched ground. A shaky hand rose to ghost across her eyes, and she sniffed as she attempted to clear the salt-filled streaks that stained her cheeks. Only a week ago her Sanctuary had become the hunting grounds for an intensely powerful abnormal; a creature who thrived off of electromagnetic energy and had been living, subdued, in John Druitt’s body for many, many years. He had sacrificed himself, in the end; whispering words of love into her ear before plunging into the freezing, life-draining agony of the parasite-abnormal once more. The torment had been immediate,the elemental offering no reprieve from its constant need for chaos and blood. He had reacted violently after that moment, utterly lost in his own anguish, his face twisted and skewed into an expression that made him nearly unrecognizable.

John was the only living connection between her and Ashley; seeing him tormented, and seeing the desperation within his demeanor brought back memories of the Cabal. Ashley’s face had paralleled her fathers before she, too, had sacrificed herself for the sake of the Sanctuary and her mother. John would never know her likeness to him, how much his daughter had taken after her father, despite his lack of presence. The memories had haunted her for weeks until she finally threw herself back into her work.

Will had noticed the change, and had made futile gesture of trying to snap her out of it. Work was a necessary distraction, it kept her from delving too deeply into the hollow depths of a mind that was far too weary. A variety of knobs and switches clicked and churned as she powered the machine down, then a hollow laugh left her throat. If only Will had been there to see her now, the kid still failed to believe that she had any skill with controlled flight.

The budding protege was not here, however; no one was. Helen wanted it that way, she had received offers for assistance but no one needed to see her like this; broken down, manic, and far beyond recovery.

“You Ms.Sungam?” a voice floated to her from behind the helipad as she exited the side of the aircraft.

“Yes, I am.” Helen turned and nodded to regard the thin, pot-bellied man who approached. “Here to investigate report of a large creature that resides in the area.”

“‘Name’s Jim, Jim Harris, Park Ranger, ” he extended a dirty hand, which she shook graciously. “I’ll be the one takin’; you out to the docks. Look’s like it’s gonna rain so we’d better hustle. My trucks over there if you wanna hop in,” he pointed to an old white ford, “just gotta grab ya’ a life jacket. You can put your gear in the back. Hey you want a box of tissues or somethin’? Looks like you’ve been tearin’ up.”

Her brown curls shook with her head and she offered a waxy smile, “Just not used to this environment, I’ve got terrible allergies.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “it pretty much stays sorta’ warm all year ‘round so you ain’t got time to stop sneezin’. It’s a better near the water, though. I’ll show you where we last seen ol’ Hugo on the map and we’ll let ya’ get on from there.”

“Thank you,” she nodded.

++++

The half-hour ride to the boat was shaky and Helen found herself politely entertaining the man, despite her own desires to remain silent. Jim was full of talkative energy and by the end of their ride she knew nearly everything there was to know about the Harris family tree, and about the history of the property around them. Relief finally came when they reached the crystal-clear waters of the cave-springs. Jim showed her to her boat, explained the map, and helped her load her gear.

“Just watch out for yourself Ms. Sungam,” he said as he handed her the life jacket, “Ain't too many people out there today and we’ve seen some pretty nasty accidents as-o’-late. Dunno whether Hugo’s causin’ ‘em or not.” They said their farewells, then Helen was off with a promise to return the boat the following morning.

The journey to Hugo’s hot-spot was long, but strikingly beautiful. It was a windy day and the cypress trees shivered with their trunks beneath the water and their great heads swayed in the chilly air, burdened with Spanish moss. Beyond the water, vast forests of leafless oak and thick, green pine stretched out on swaths of dampened mud and underbrush and even in the winter the wilderness teemed with insects and chatting birds. Their voices, though shrill, were muted and moist in the cool humidity.

Helen kept the boat’s wake low, careful to avoid any errant cypress trunks that lay like ancient tombs within the water. The water, at it’s deepest, was verdant and filled with fish, turtles, and plant life; along the majority of it’s length it assumed a murky, green color but often it would break along the shore into crystal-blue ovals of purified water. These ovals formed above the openings of spring caves where gallons of fresh water flowed into the river. Caves, dangerous and beautiful. It would be easy for an abnormal to hides Despite the steady wind and promise of rain, the boat seemed to be the only thing within the area that posed any threat to the balance of nature. The stillness fueled her caution; in her particular line of work the more peaceful things seemed, the more dangerous they often were.

Following the map, she arrived above one of the larger caves in the area, set into a small cove of cypress trees, and cast her anchor. There was a diving dock built into the trees and she used it to spread her gear out. Alone and unaccompanied, she donned her wet-suit beneath the cover of the moss. The wind lapped viciously across the sides of the dock and boat and goosebumps appeared where splashes of icy water met the pale expanse of her skin. The trip would be frigid and dangerous but she wanted to feel the numbness of the cold; wanted, as Ashley, to face the threat of darkness and eternity. It was a self-inflicted pain she felt that she deserved, despite her team’s assertions to the contrary.

Soft notes of cedar and sandalwood wafted through the dampened chill, familiar and heady. “A little cold to be taking a swim, don’t you think, Helen?” The low, commanding voice washed over her like a cold rain; she recognized it’s owner immediately.

“John, what in God’s name are you doing here?” She spoke, reeling around to face the last individual she expected to see in the middle of the Florida panhandle.

“I’m glad to see that you are so concerned.” his smile waxed sardonic, the lines never quite reaching his eyes.

The quip went unnoticed, her thoughts far too focused on the possibility of being harmed by him, despite his unassuming stance. Her hand grazed her side, the familiar weight of a specialized, water-ready, stun-gun offering some relief. She grasped the handle tightly, releasing the safety as she pointed the weapon toward him.

“Relax,” he raised his hands and gave a small bow, noting her discomfort “I have control over the creature, for the moment. I would not be here if that were not the case.”

Helen hesitated. His voice always sounded a little too enticing, a little too calm, as if he were always trying to lure her into the dark. “I’ve heard you say such things in the past.” An eye glanced over him suspiciously, though she could find no trace of deception. John had, in recent times, demonstrated an uncanny level of control over his handicap. He tended to shy away from her and largely sought to shield her from his rage, but he was still unpredictable, even to himself. It was that chaos that had always been their undoing.

“How are you feeling?” Her face softened, though she kept the gun trained.

Fire grazed his eyes. “Best not to ask that question,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

She nodded impassively, “Why have you come here, then? How did you know where I was?” Then, as a second thought. “And for Christ’s sake how long were you standing there before you let me know?”

“I wanted advice,“ he spoke honestly as his hands gestured to the air. “As to how I knew, well, that would be telling. Suffice to say that you are not difficult to track down, for those who know how to look.” He paused and his pale eyes wandered to take in the scenery, “I didn’t watch you dress, if that’s what you’re asking. My word, as a gentleman.”

When she failed to respond, he swallowed, thick and ancient, then turned to her again, “I will admit that this is a beautiful spot; it is a shame I never took you here.”

Memories flashed within her mind, of times when things had been less troubled between them; moments of travel and joy. Her gun lowered. “Yeah,” she said, slightly breaking character as she took a step toward him. Her eyes left their rigid stance to regard the teal-tinted water and deep, mossy rocks around them, “it is.”


	2. Frigid Waters

John’s primary interest was in the creature Helen sought to protect, not in pioneering new horizons within the expanse of their relationship. After a time, Helen felt her shoulders slacken as she grew more comfortable with his presence. His own research revealed that the creature possessed specialized electric organs used to both navigate the darkness of the caves and to stun and kill its predators and prey. These electrogenic properties, along with its general shape and affinity for freshwater environments, made it comparable to a well known species of South American knifefish, the Electric Eel-- though it did not appear to need to surface for air and could easily survive in cooler, less stagnant waters.

Hugo’s electric ability explained why there was little need for it to venture far outside of the cave system; it also explained why John’s held an interest in Helen’s mission. John was not known for his propensity to make random philanthropic gestures toward abnormal beings but if the creature’s was at all analogous to other species of electric fish, then its primary form communication was via electric pulse and there was a possibility that he could use it to communicate, harbor, or destroy his elemental parasite.

Helen held a map to the murky sunlight as she examined the contents of a briefcase John had offered her as proof of the benign nature of his presence. The briefcase contained valuable information pilfered from high security databases from around the globe. He had, quite illegally, broken into some most protected libraries currently in existence; classified government facilities that carried out daily research for the sake of military progress. Though she found his actions reprehensible, Helen could not dismiss the value in his findings. The Sanctuary Network would likely be accused of stealing away with the missing information, but Helen could convince them otherwise.

They sat with their legs spread out on the diving dock, both of them buried in paperwork, “it could make pinning Hugo down a little more difficult.”

“Some of these caves are networked,” she remarked, handing the map to John as she reached for another folder.

“It says here that E. Electricus, is nocturnal, if there is any relation then perhaps we could lure the creature out at night.”

“I’d rather catch it during resting hours, if it’s all the same. The less activity the better."

“Mmm,” he nodded. “I’d like a way to monitor your progress, something that would give me the ability to pinpoint your whereabouts, if need be.”

“Teleporting in and out of depth that low in such a short period of time could prove injurious, John, especially on my end. Without proper decompression, I could be killed.”

“I’m aware of that,” he quipped, “but if the situation grows dire, it may be worth the risk. ”

“I suppose,” she swallowed. Part of her was annoyed by his overtly chivalrous behavior-- inclined, as he always was, to see a weakness within her. The other part of her was admittedly relieved and somewhat comforted by the offer to help. He provided a necessary fail-safe against her arguably foolish actions in coming alone.

“There is a communication unit built into the mask,” Helen moved to grab a spare radio from the boat. To this, she attached an adapter which sent a signal to an accompanying earpiece. After a brief test, she handed the earpiece to John. “The mechanism is simple, push the button to broadcast,” she demonstrated, depressing a raised area on the lower half of the earpiece, “release it to receive.”

“Easy enough,” he intoned.

She toyed with the radio, then again with her mask. “We’ll talk on this signal,” she said, pointing to the dial, “it should hold well enough. I also have a backup radio with GPS, and a camera,” a lithe hand pilfered through her backpack as she pulled out a tablet and placed it on the dock. “you can monitor both on this.” She turned the camera on, tested it against the tablet, then gestured for him to take it.

John nodded took the the device, studying the screen and smiling at the image it projected. The camera, affixed to the mask, was pointed downward toward her body, allowing him an ample view of her wet-suit adorned, yet still delightfully ample chest. “Well I certainly can't complain about the view,” he chuckled.

“Honestly,” she breathed and adjusted the lens to point another way as John’s eyes sparkled at her. In another time, she might have laughed along with him, but the weight of life had been far too heavy as of late. Instead she locked her jaw in annoyance.

A sobered sigh escaped John as he moved to collect the paperwork around them. Silently, she joined him.

++++

Over the next hour, they said very little. Helen tried to remember every safety precaution she needed to take in order to make the mission run as smoothly as possible, checking and re-checking all of her gear and equipment to ensure maximum quality and performance. It occurred to her, after a while, that John was anxious to say something. Every time she looked toward him she found him biting at his lip or staring at her as if she might disappear. Eventually, she stilled and set her things down to shoot him a pointed look.

“Out with it then,” she said as she reclined on one arm, “you look like you’re going to burst.”

John gave her the same ghostly stare before a shadow passed over his face. “What are you on about?”

A brow rose to warn him that he was not at all convincing.

He gave a resigned hum, then fixed his gaze on the water, “I was so close to becoming what I once was, Helen. I have to wonder how it might have changed things between us.”

She sighed and began to tinker with her equipment again, “Nothing would have changed,” she said resolutely, trying to convince them both. “Our time passed long ago.”

There was a pause as he considered his next words, weighing the raw truth of them. “Would it surprise you if I said that a part of me didn’t want it?” His throat opened to swallow the thickened words. “To be free again?”

The masked hovered inches away from her face as she paused to consider his words.

“Honestly? No, it wouldn’t,” she said, then finished strapping on and adjusting the final few pieces of her gear, save for her oxygen regulator. When she had last seen him his demeanor was distant and foreign, as if unsure of how to think or act without the elemental's presence. The silence deafened and disturbed him and she could easily see why. John had been Jack the Ripper for so long that he no longer remembered who he was beneath the murders and the violence. Without the creature’s confidence, he was little more than a hollowed-out shell.

John head tilted in acceptance.

“It’s time,” her muffled voice floated from behind the mask. He rose with her as she made her way to the water’s edge, glancing over the tablet to make sure it gave off the proper readings. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Not a catch-and-run I take it?”

“For now, I’m going down there to observe and take samples. I need to determine the approximate size of the creature and get an idea of its skeletal structure. Depending on whether it is cartilage or bone, Hugo may not be able to support its weight outside of the water, which means we'll need a tank instead of a sling. On top of that, DNA samples will aid us in classifying the species so we can engineer a method of care. If we can find evidence of its main food source, that would help as well. I’ll review the data tonight, then call for a team and arrange a proper transport. Standard procedure, really; it should run smoothly.”

The line of his mouth slanted upward. “All so very routine and yet you still have that spark in your eye. There’s an element of danger you are quick to make light of.”

“Every mission has it’s risks.”

“And Doctor Magnus is nothing if not an entrepreneur of risk,” he finished. “You certainly haven’t lost your passion.”

“Are you saying that you find me predictable?”

A laugh climbed out of him, then rolled and echoed over the surface of the water. “On the contrary, I find it reassuring.”

Beneath the gear, her growing smile faded, though her companion remained blind to it.

John, more than anyone, had encouraged Helen to try to move on with her life after Ashley’s death. Though she could never fully purge herself of the grief and pain that came with such an event, she had indeed--and not without a hefty measure of guilt--found a life after her daughter.

An arm rose as she fitted the regulator to her mouthpiece, allowing herself and excuse to remain silent on the issue. Swallowing darkly, she took her position at the edge of the dock.

John’s face became concerned. “Helen,” he spoke with a voice that wavered like the sunlight through the shivering clouds above.

The steel of her eyes pierced through the mask, sharp and expectant.

“Take care down there.”

She nodded and plunged backward into the water.

++++

A brittle chill settled over Helen’s body as she drifted lower and lower into the creature’s dwelling. With no knowledge of this particular cave’s depth, she was running blind through the twisting tunnels. At the mouth of the cave, she had set up a guide wire that could help lead her back to safety, but it was her only fallback--that, of course, and John, but she was doing her level best to avoid needing his ability. He was a last resort, nothing more.

“Everything looks good so far,” she said after a steady measure of silence. They had shared only a few words since the start of her dive. “There are signs that Hugo’s been here recently.”

Above the water, John perked up, nodding to the thin air. “Anything of use?” He spoke through the radio.

“Not yet,” she responded, then pointed the camera--which was, at this point, attached to her mask--toward the cave wall. “See those wear marks?”

“The current has already worn them down considerably, but they’re still here, and very recent.”

“Do you think it knows we’re here?”

“It’s a possibility.”

A grave feeling washed over John’s body at the sound of those words, though he said nothing in return.

More minutes passed as Helen migrated through the trembling murk. After a certain depth, the light became increasingly scattered and the path more dense and winding. Helen produced a torch and pointed it into the thickened darkness, focusing solely on the journey ahead to avoid a sense of claustrophobia.

“Forty meters,” John warned her from afar. That she was still descending with no end in sight left them both surprised; even the largest caves in the area were typically no more than thirty meters deep.

“I’m getting close.” She said, descending further. The scenery became repetitive. Water, rock, and unfiltered murk glinting dimly past the beam of the flashlight.

“Fifty meters...Helen?”

“I’m fine, John. I’ve gone far deeper than this.”

“Of course you have,” he said with little surprise, knowing better than to question her skill. The thought of the troubles she got herself into when he was not around left him all the more unsettled, though to some degree that danger defined her. Without it, he would never have been half as charmed.

A glint on the screen shifted his thoughts back to the moment. A few minutes had passed since their last exchange.

“The creature?” he asked through the radio.

“No sight of it yet, I’m going to have to squeeze through this crevice, bear with me for a moment.”

On camera, John could see the narrow passageway, nearly wanting to wince as the lens cover bumped and scraped against the wall. Once past this, the stone gave way to a wider cavern. Helen entered the space and began to search the walls in earnest. Along the farthest wall, there was an opening to a tunnel, which Helen approached with quick strokes.

”I can see Hugo’s tail, I think,” she pointed in view of the camera.

In the light of her torch, the abnormal's skin glistened like nacre. Its scales were extremely small and were, in fact, not scales at all, but rather a pattern dermal denticles like those found on the skin of a shark. The tiny, bumpy edges of enamel defined themselves against the ambient glow and Helen's eyes flashed over them in wonder. Somehow, the creature had wedged itself into an opening that barely seemed to contain its massive body. Where the tunnel led, Helen could not know, but she counted herself lucky for the chance to observe the creature undetected.

“Remarkable,” he spoke into her earpiece as the camera pointed toward the rainbow-white bulk. Even he could not hide the wonder in his voice.

Behind the mask, she smiled.

“Alright,” she said as she moved to gather the necessary equipment, “just a few samples and we’ll be good to go. At this size, Hugo shouldn’t even notice.”

John watched intently as she produced a needle and syringe from her field kit, then positioned it diagonally against the creature’s thick hide. There was a brief moment of hesitation before she broke the skin and pulled the plunger back. Seconds ticked by as a dense, pinkish fluid slowly filtered into the canister. When it reached the halfway point, John’s shoulders finally began to relax.

“Almost there, darling,” he whispered to himself, willing her to remain undetected.

When the syringe was nearly full, she felt the creature twitch. Deft hands moved to pull the needle out before she placed the syringe in a sealed container and stowed it safely away. Her eyes flashed back to the creature, which was still once more, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was close,” she spoke into the receiver.

John swallowed dryly and gazed wide-eyed into the screen of the tablet. “I’d say,” he responded after a beat.

Next, she reached for a scalpel and another sealed container. Meters below, she could feel John tensing at the sight. “Skin samples,” she spoke into the receiver before he could begin to ask. When he did not respond, she proceeded onward. The blade hit its target with little fanfare. She paused to wait for a reaction, her mind ticking off the seconds as the current swept past in strong gusts. After measure of silence, she spurred forward. Putting a fair amount of pressure on the incision, she calmly drew it the scalpel down in a line, tracing a small pattern for the sample. When this was finished, she quietly tugged the loose flap upward. Without warning, the skin shook, then jerked and began to move in undulating waves. Her hands kept a firm grip on her equipment as they recoiled in surprise.

“Dammit,” Helen cursed into the water, watching as creatures tail disappeared into the blackness of the hole.

“Helen?” John’s voice quivered nervously into her ear.

“I’m afraid I’ve scared it off,” she said once the creature vanished.

There was a clicking noise all around the cave, then Hugo reappeared from the tunnel. She backed away immediately. Now facing forward with its whole body out of the tunnel Helen could see the creature in full detail. Its general shape recalled the form of an ancient Chinese dragon, though it’s head was less rounded. Along its dorsal side, there was a large fin that stretched, long and unbroken along the full length of its cylindrical body. There were other fins too that fanned out in graceful half-moons at various points for balance. Judging it against her own height, Helen estimated that the abnormal was roughly seven meters. The white spectrum of color than ran along its skin was all inclusive and shimmered like a haze of moonlight. There were several scars about its frame, most notably on the arrow-like head. One its eyes, red and angry, glowered at Helen while the other, milky white and scarred where it had previously encountered a boat rudder, glistened blindly into the light. Above the eyes and near the top of the skull there were two great holes that expanded and contracted in a steady rhythm through the current.

“Spiracles” She muttered into her mouthpiece, “It’s more like some sort of shark or ray, though its flexibility suggests a bone-based skeletal structure.”

“Helen, get out of there.” John urged.

Hugo’s mouth opened in a toothy grin, revealing a pair of sharp, white, elongated teeth that jutted out as its aw lowered further. Helen could tell by their size, shape, and general consistency what the two protrusions were.

“Dear lord,” she breathed into the mouthpiece, “it has fangs. Two forms of defense.”

“This is not the time to wade in idle fascination!” he barked into the receiver.

“It must have to guard against its own kind.” She reasoned, largely ignoring him. “Solitary in nature, therefore territorial.”

John breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Helen was backing away slowly along the guide wire.

A cloud of silt surrounded its violent mass, parting where its fins fanned out against the current. The creature thrashed brightly, its moonstone skin glinting as though covered in a swathe of crushed diamonds. It dove at her, releasing a cloud of silky mud that disguised the caves interior and left her completely disoriented. There was a flurry of movement, then she felt a sharp pain at her abdomen and a violent jolt of shock. After that, she knew no more.

On the tablet, John watched as the mud and murk floated violently past the screen. His heart throbbed against his rib cage. Then, in a flash, everything grew still.

“Helen?” No answer, just white noise.

He saw evidence that one of her oxygen tanks had burst, then watched as the creature swept past her.

He depressed the switch again. “Helen?”

Silence, then the screen went blank.

“My God,” he muttered before he bolted up in alarm, tossing the tablet aside as he grabbed a spare flashlight. Quickly, his mind rehearsed the journey he had taken with her on camera as he ciphered out the safest entrance point before she had broken contact. There was a sharp intake of breath before John concentrated on the energy around him, then he lunged to the edge of the dock and dove into a ball of red plasma. He appeared just before narrow fissure she had squeezed through only moments before. Finding her guide wire, he shuffled along it and through the cramped walls. The wire jerked and tugged like a fishing line as he traversed its length, and it was all John could do to keep his heartbeat steady and his need for oxygen low.

When the thin passageway gave way to the wider part of the cavity, he could see no signs of life. Another pang of panic stretched through him. Absent of goggles, he could barely make out the edge of the tunnel that the creature had burrowed itself into upon Helen’s discovery. He pushed his way into the opening, fumbling along its walls and daring deeper and deeper until the cylindrical channel gave way to yet another, larger room. The beam from the flashlight swirled to and fro as he searched the floor of the cavern but there was nothing in the void.

Seconds passed, his lungs burned, and, wearily, he began to lose hope. By now, Helen’s guide wire had gone limp, leaving him with no line or lead to follow. Briefly he wondered at whether or not he would let himself die there with her but then his light caught something glimmering in the gloom below him. He stroked downward, then crept further and further until he could see the great white bulk of the creature writhing ahead.

Hugo was guarding her body like a jealous dog, half its hulking mass pinning her to the floor of the passageway while the other half prepared to fight. It loomed in dreadful silence, eyes flashing at John before it thrashed its tail in warning. The ripper ignored the taunt and lunged toward Helen with a quick kick of his legs. Hugo darted toward him. A strange, clicking noise pulsed from somewhere within its vast throat. John smiled at the response, the creatures predictability a boost to his rising ego. In a flash, he teleported past its white mass and long arm stretched to grasp at the hem of Helen’s limp shoulder.

The abnormal whirled around and John gaped, wide-eyed as one hand crashed against Helen’s shoulder while the other narrowly missed the creature’s electrically charged skin. At a closer range, he could see the jagged silhouette of one of its fangs jutting out of her abdomen. He felt the mild edges of the current pass through the water beside him. The clicking came again as the creature took another lunge, its abalone skin twisting and curling over itself like a coiled snake. John prepared to teleport, strengthening his grip on Helen as the variegation of light approached, but just as the space around him began to snap and shift, his entire body froze. He tried to cry out in pain, but no sound came.

For a moment, his face became vague and his pupils lost the soul that held them. A bank feeling overtook his form and he hovered listlessly in the stillness of the cave. Paralyzed, he lost his grip on the torch; it drifted slowly to the ground below the creature’s opalescent membrane flashing within its dying light. The clicking sound increased in tempo. John’s body spun as the creature swept past him and he caught sight of Helen’s frame sinking into the black.

His heart plummeted with her. The grey of his eyes lost the last of their hope.

Then, the demon woke.

From deep within, the elemental surged to life, bringing with it all the rage and pain of his frail and tortured existence. The sharp edges of his face contorted into an expression of immense hostility Red light flashed before his eyes, the creature urging him to rise and take action against whatever threat had now befallen him.The numbness left him, morphing and evolving into a quickly building fury. He disappeared into a haze of aqueous red light.

At the dock, John surfaced long enough to take a gasping breath before he de-materialized again. When he returned, Hugo was pushing its way toward Helen’s unconscious form. When the ripper appeared in front of the beast it curled back in bewilderment.

Seeing his change, John sprang into action. His teeth flashed in anger as he watched the white bulk lunge at him again. This time, when the clicking sound began, he was prepared for it. The shock came toward him in a beat and John felt the elemental swell within him to deflect the blow. The move was effective and Hugo recoiled in silent pain, then retreated and faded away into the murk.

Wasting no time, John thrust forward and his arms circled around Helen’s waist. He teleported up in increments, steeling himself against the acid in his lungs as he fought to allow her body a chance to properly decompress. When they finally appeared above the surface, his body was curled over hers and she lay face up with her back against the wood of the dock. He coughed and sputtered beside her, his forehead bumping against the ground with the force of the act. Slowly,he pushed himself up to a prostrate position, placing his elbows on either side of her head as he relieved her of his weight. Water dripped off of him in torrents.

Helen’s body surged to life; her eyes shot open in panic. For a moment, she struggled to purge herself of the mask before it went flying off of her head, then skittered and scraped its way to the edge of the dock. The mask, luckily, had prevented water from entering her lungs but the danger was far from gone. She looked down to see the creatures fang jutting out of her body. A sense of numbness began to work its way from the entrance point to the rest of her body. The venom, coupled with the drunken effects of nitrogen narcosis, was a cocktail for disaster.

Knowing better than to pull the shard out, she reached for the trunk of John’s arm.

“John,” she spoke, trying to catch his attention as his breath heaved heavily above her. He stirred and backed away far enough to survey her broken body. A hand fell to hers, then eased its way to the site of her pain, sliding delicious and slick along the entrance of her wound.

“Oh,” the voice oozed from his throat in creamy tones, “you have no idea what you’ve done.”

Her eyes flew to his and, at once, she recognized the darkness within them.

“No idea,” he whispered before his lips fell to her neck. He bit her there, teeth sinking into her flesh, relishing the taste of her blood, then toyed with the skin that ran ragged beside the point of her injury. The act found her crying out in pain as her breath rose and fell into cadence with his own.

“Get off of me,” she spat, trying, with weakened limbs, to push him away. Whatever had happened during John's encounter with the abnormal below, Helen could not know, but it brought out the worst in him. Without physical leverage, it was up to her mind to fight the battle for his sanity and for her life.

The fear in her chest expanded when his hand slid sensually up to the blunt point of the fang. "John," she spoke, trying to stop him. Shaking hands rose up to clutch at the sides of his face, slipping clumsily over his cold, clammy skin. “John,” she repeated, the frail timbre of her voice fluttering out in gasps between each shudder of her lungs.

He pushed it into her. 

Sharp pain shot through her, followed by a cry of panic she knew would only make his actions worse. One of her hands slid down to his, trying to alleviate the pressure and to keep the shard in place. She was too weak. It made him laugh through his nose like a child.

_“Look at me.”_

In some far corner of his mind, he heard her distant plea. _I know,_ he thought hopelessly, _I know._ Then he pressed the fang deeper.

John heard her sharp intake of breath and felt the familiar pulse of pleasure that came with enacting such horrors. The elemental drank the pain and sorrow with wild abandon. The effect was pure ambrosia, making him feel light and giddy, as though his mind were covered in velvet cloth. Thin lips hovered close to her ear as he cried with her, shaking with with internal delight. His pelvis rocked sickeningly against her thigh but even as he moved there was a part of him that urged the demon to back off, knowing well its effect on his body. The elemental was corrupting his perception of reality, steadily transcribing the surges of anguish he felt into a waves of white-hot bliss. Helen was its ultimate prize, its most significant source of nourishment, and it lurched at her with untempered gluttony.

The blue of her eyes flashed into his and he felt a pang of regret.

_“Look at me.”_

The elemental hissed against her words and John felt its bitter fury. He fought her briefly when she tried to force his eyes back in her direction but lost when her thumb smoothed against his cheek. Love had always been the elemental's greatest downfall. It had never been able to fully compromise John’s grasp on the emotion.

 _Not this,_ his mind whispered internally to the gloating demon, praying to its formless might. He felt its power flicker. _I’ll end it all, and then you’ll be without a home._

_“This is **not** you.” _

Memories flooded into him, encouraged by her tender words. She was offering him a foothold, a way out of the creature's chaotic grasp and his heart swelled at the thought as it reached through the void of quiet desolation to clutch at her proffered grace. Panic came when her eyes flickered in and out of unconsciousness.

_“You have to take me home.”_

Her last words were slurred, the paralytic now fully dispersed across her bloodstream. John lingered above her, warring with himself. His thin hand sliding across her neck. A knife appeared out of nowhere and pressed nauseatingly against her sluggish pulse.

In those final moments, Helen thought of Ashley. How beautiful she had been, and how brave. Seeing John's struggle evoked images of the last time she had seen her daughter alive. It had taken everything in Ashley's being to fight off the Cabal's monstrosities, but ultimately she had won. John, too, would win in the end--because Ashley's strength and will in that internal battle had been his own.

When she finally fell unconscious, it was with some measure of relief. John watched her with distant, inexpressible misery, then shouted and pounded his fist against the ground as he fought for control.

“Stop!” he growled, clutching at the sides of his head. There was a whining timbre in his ear that was growing louder with every moment. He rolled off of her then and felt the chilled surface of the dock clutch at his back. His body throbbed, the effect of having teleported to such a dangerous depth finally revealing itself in slicing daggers of pain. Violent breaths choked in and out of him and he groaned against the cold deluge of anguish. The madness was all encompassing, a cacophony of violent wants and needs that ached to be fulfilled.

Only a fragment of his soul remained intact, hanging loosely on a fragile string from the pith of his eternal being. He fastened himself to it, clinging with every last inch of his will to its solid mass. The sea of dense brutality continued to rage against him, but he met each swell with a fervent push of soft emotion.

Gradually, he felt the anger drift apart from him, ebbing away like a dying tide. The rise of his chest heaved upward in a tremulous sigh, then his head turned to regard Helen, pale and unconscious beside him. Blood seeped steadily out of her wounds. There was not much time, he thought with a heartbroken swallow. Finger by finger, he pulled her hand into his, drowsy eyes wincing with the effort. Once he had a firm enough grasp, he whispered something inaudible then disappeared into the ether.

They materialized a measurable distance away from the Sanctuary's gates-- a caution against the EM shields that were still in full swing. When John opened his eyes, the bright sky beamed at him with eye-searing cheer. He quickly dismissed its joy and let a blast of frigid wind wake him to his feet. Shuffling over to Helen’s body, he groaned loosely as he bent to pick her up. When he rose to full height, his body felt as limp as a salamander’s and the grey of his shirt clung to him like a cold shell. He walked like something undead to the head of the gates, sloppily pushing past them as he made his way to the main walkway. Seconds passed, and then minutes before he finally hurled himself over the front steps and slid the bulk of his body against the solid weight of the door frame.

A bloody finger rose to ring the doorbell.


End file.
